Losing Consciousness
by Crooked Young
Summary: What happened to Mrs. Wetherall? Was it really an accident? Milligan plans to find out, and will stop at nothing to protect his young daughter from the new threat rising.
1. Chapter 1

Author's note: What's up to the very few people who read my first story! I probably sound really awkward so I'm going to cut to the chase here. I really wanted to write a fic about what happened to Kate's mom, because it's never mentioned. The ideas just popped into my head. Anyway, I'm calling Milligan Milligan only because I have no idea what his name actually was. Sorry if it's a tad depressing. I'll shut up now. Enjoy!

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Milligan Wetherall sits at the scuffed table in the living room of the farmhouse, a photograph clutched in his hand. The cops had said it was an accident, no chance of murder. Detective O'Connery had put his bony hand on Milligan's shaking shoulder, and just shook his head.

"I'm sorry Mr. Wetherall. You've had a long day. Why don't you go home, read a book to your daughter. Get some sleep. I'll see if there's anything the department can do. Just take care of that kid of yours." Milligan had taken a taxi home. The truck just reminded him of her. The way she would light up the room with her eyes alone was too similiar to the traffic lights, the way she would sing to Kate, too much like the whir of the engine and the buzz of the radio.

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He was holding her hand, staring into her brown eyes, swinging he hand back and forth. She laughed, a hearty, spontaneous laugh, and threw her arms around him. He could smell her perfume, lavender, and smiled and kissed her in the cheek. They continued down the alley, laughing, and reached the little blue truck they shared. Milligan swung her into his arms, and carried her into the passenger seat. She grinned, and slid over to the driver's side.

"Don't worry. I'll drive."

He laughed, and hopped in the car, slamming the door shut.

She flicked on the radio, turning to the classic rock station. Tom Petty was playing "Woman In Love". Milligan smiled, and turned the dial to the left, mouthing the words. Rain was coming down in sheets now. He hoped the babysitter had gotten Kate in bed, it was far past 11. The screech of tires snapped his attention to the road. He squinted, trying to see outside the warm interior of the truck. Two pinpoints of light dotted the horizon.

"Honey, slow down a bit. I think someone's coming." She nodded, and slowed to a steady roll. The dots swerved suddenly, and faster than Milligan could register, a sound like thunder erupted in his ears. He felt himself fly forward, only to be yanked backwards by his seatbelt. His vision blurred and he lost consciousness.

A/N Please review, as it makes me not look like a loner:) And sorry about the length. I promise I'll update soon!


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: Sorry if there was some typos back there. I was drunk on cheese. I chose Mary because it went nicely with Milligan, even though his name probably wasn't that back then:)

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Bright, blinding lights greeted Milligan's eyes when he finally came roaring back to reality. His head pounded behind his eyes, and he could feel his heart in every limb of his body. His eyes finally focused, and he realized he was in a bleached room, with a monitor. With a start, he recognized it as a hospital room. He lifted one hand, but was restrained by the IV tube running from his wrist to the bag.

"Calm down Mr. Wetherall. You're okay now." Milligan flicked his eyes towards the door. A tall Asian man was standing in the doorway, holding a clipboard.

"I'm Dr. Williams." He looked nice enough. "Your wife, Mary, is it?" Milligan nodded. "Well, she's stable, and so are you. You broke your wrist, and a few ribs, but mostly you're intact. Mrs. Wetherall suffered a concussion, and a broken leg, but she'll be fine with a few months of physical therapy."

Milligan almost cried out of joy. Mary was fine. They were going to be okay. Dr. Williams coughed.

"Sir, I'm going to put you under again, okay? It's for the best." Milligan nodded.

"Just make sure you tell my wife that Kate is with the babysitter, she doesn't have to worry." Dr. Williams smiled, and said, "You have a daughter? How old?"

"Eighteen months." He nodded, and pushed a shiny syringe into Milligan's wrist, and quietly left the room, as Milligan drifted back into darkness.

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Dr. Kevin Williams strolled down the corridor, whistling to himself. He passed Dr. Wash, waved a good morning, and turned left to reach Room 108. He opened the door as gently as he could, and slipped into the room.

"Mrs. Wetherall?" He said to the woman lying in the bed. "How are you feeling?" Mary's eyes widened, and she gasped.

"Look out! Behind you!" Dr. Williams whirled around, and came face-to-face with a bald man in a pinstripe suit. The man grinned, and wriggled his one eyebrow.

"Hello Doctor. Let's begin the procedure, shall we?" Dr. Williams scrambled for his pager, but was roughly shoved into the monitor. Stars blocked his sight, and he groaned. A scream brought him back to life.

"NO! Don't hurt her! She's only a baby!" The man in the suit chuckled.

"Well chickie, if you don't tell me all about your husband, and how he single-handedly dismantled my operation, I'm going to have to intervene." Mary struggled against the various machines keeping her in place, her brown eyes alight with fear. She shook her head, tears cascading down her eyes.

"No? Then I'm going to have to call in my colleague." He pulled out his walkie-talkie, and clicked the button, causing a brief burst of static to erupt.

"McCracken? This is Crawlings. Execute operation. Over." He grinned, and turned to Dr. Williams.

"I'm afraid you can't be here for this Doctor." He shook his wrists and, a whine was the last thing Kevin Williams heard before he hit the floor.

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Milligan was running, his lungs bursting with air, his legs pumping. He skidded to a stop in front of the grey building, pausing only to look over his shoulder for a pursuer. Seeing no one, he burst through the revolving front door, and started down the eerily familiar hall.

Doors flew past, occasionally housing a ghostly face famed in whitewashed sunlight and cobwebs.

96...98..100 Milligan crashed to the floor, a shadow on the wall chasing him as he inched backwards.

"Agent, just what are you doing?" A voice comes from the room to his left. 108.

"It's your fault. You couldn't protect her, couldn't protect Kate. You may be a clever agent, but you are a lousy father." It was his father's voice, cascading around him, causing memories to twist and turn in his mind, consuming the so-called-reality he now lived in. "Wake up, kid, and smell the ashes. They might just be your own." Milligan heaved himself onto the handle, and crashed into the room. The bed was empty. There was only a rose.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: If anyone has ever seen the music videos for "Nightmare" by Avenged Sevenfold, or "Monster" by Skillet, you can kinda see what I was going for in Milligan's nightmare, and in this next chapter. Just without M. Shadows and John Cooper in gauze. Frick.

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Milligan sat up in his bed, heart pounding, face slick with sweat. He frantically ripped the IV out of his arm, ignoring the twinge of pain he felt. He realized he was in a hospital gown, but found himself wearing his street clothes underneath. He ripped the gown off, and stumbled towards the door. He crashed through, weaving his way through concerned doctors and nurses.

"Sir! Stop!" A voice cried out. Milligan didn't care. He needed to see that his wife was all right. He skidded down the hallway, somehow knowing exactly where he was going; room 108. He panted, and wheezed, clutching his ribcage with his good hand. He stopped at the blue door on his left. The plaque on the wall read 108: DO NOT DISTURB. Milligan paid no attention as he slammed himself against the door. It shuddered inward, but didn't budge.

"Sir, you're going to hurt yourself." He spun, crashing into the frightened nurse behind him. He immediately got up, and apologized to the woman. She waved him off, and looked him over. 'What's the matter? Lost a button?"

"Please," He spluttered. "My wife's in danger. I need to see her." The nurse gave him a quizzical look. You're Mr. Wetherall? Then who's the man in there with her now?" Milligan froze. "Wh-what?" He managed.

"You know, the tall, broad fellow in the suit. Carrying a briefcase? Looks like he could pick up a cement mixer? He said _he _was Mr. Wetherall, and he brought their daughter to see her." Milligan's heart stopped. He knew exactly who was being described. McCracken, a man whom he had only heard of in warnings and tales of despair from other agents. "You know what was odd, though? He had two watches. I wonder if he works overseas..." Milligan didn't stay to hear the nurse ramble. He pounded on the door, sending electrifying jolts of pain up his arm.

"HEY!" He screamed, his voice hoarse. "MARY? KATE? CAN YOU HEAR ME?"

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McCracken stood over the young woman, menace in his eyes, and a toddler in his arms. He smiled warmly, and addressed her.

"Mary, is it? How old is Katie here? Eighteen months, eh?" He glanced at Kate, who was paralyzed by the presence this giant of a man, and grinned. "Big Girl, huh chickie? Well, it's too bad you won't remember who your parents were after today." He turned to Mary, who burst into tears.

"Please, just let me call a doctor, they can bring him in here. Just don't take her." McCracken growled. Was this entire family impossible? He was about to reply, when he heard a heavy weight slam against the door.

"MARY? KATE? CAN YOU HEAR ME?" McCracken snarled, and flicked on his radio.

"Crawlings? What did I say about the agent? Deal with him, then return to Mr. C. I'll deal with the wife. Over." He pocketed the device, and set Kate on the bed. Mary immediately scooped her up, shielding her from the deadly man in front of her.

"Well Mary, it was nice knowing you. You got lucky this time." He chuckled at the scream that echoed from the corridor, and the grunts indicating a fist fight. "But next time, your daughter goes to." With that, the hallway went silent, and the door opened. Crawlings stood in the doorway, bleeding, but victorious. McCracken pulled a syringe out of his briefcase, and slowly injected a poison into the syringe bag.

"Have a good night, Mary." With that they left, dragging her husbands limp body away, and Mary Wetherall fell into the unforgiving hands of Death.

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The next days were torture for Milligan. He was imprisoned in a compound off of what he predicted was Sycamore Avenue, a long, central road located in the center of Stonetown. He knew this because the distinct sounds of Stonetown Mall, which was located on E. Oak Blvd, which was a few blocks down. Every day the bald man with one eyebrow would come in, and taunt him about how easily his wife caved in, and how his daughter would be all alone in a few months. Milligan would mumble a snarky reply, and so provoked a new sequence of attacks, both on his weary mind, and his tired body.

But today was different. There was a sense of presentiment in the air, and Milligan could smell the bald man's cologne before he reached the door.

"Well, old pal, it looks like we're going to have to break you today." he strolled calmly to the chair on the opposite side of Milligan's cell. "You see, we're going to have to move our base of operation tomorrow, and it's bad real estate to leave a dead body in the building." He giggled, which was quite unsettling considering the size and stature of the man. He wriggled his eyebrow, and leaned in close to Milligan.

"So what's it gonna be Daddy? Tell me your secrets, or join Little Miss Mary in the afterlife?" Milligan strained against his binds, and snarled, "Don't you dare mention her!" The bald man laughed, a cruel, deep sound. "Playing the hero, eh? Well, than we'll just have to-" Before he could finish, Milligan ripped his hands free of the rope that held him in place, and charged, head lowered towards the surprised man. His breath escaped in a _whoosh _of air, and Milligan lowered himself to the floor, breathing heavily as he attempted to find some sort of exit other than the front door.

_Yes._ He traced his finger around the outline of the trapdoor, and lowered himself into the darkness.

A/N Crawlings and McCracken aren't supposed to sound Canadian. I just thought it sounded scarier if they said eh instead of huh:) P.S reviews make me happy inside.


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note: Okay... This is going to mystery-esque now. I think Milligan is the detective type. P.S thanks to VeeAmAy and DramaQueen69981 for being loyal reviewers! Seriously. Thanks:)

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Stonetown Cemetery was a step above the mausoleum, and Milligan wanted only the very best for Mary Wetherall. She was pronounced dead at Saint Peters Hospital at 4:43 pm, an accidental overdose. Milligan tried to tell the police what had happened, but they shook him off.

"You're delusional... knock on the head... poor guy... poor kid too." Milligan couldn't take the apologies and pity. He said he knew where the base was, that he knew who ran it. The chief just shook her head.

"Mr. Wetherall, I'm sure you had a drug-induced nightmare, and I'm sorry for your loss, but we checked the location. It's a dud. Been vacant for years." Milligan tried to explain what the bald man had said to him, but was met with "Crazy... Government gone and screwed him up... Maybe the kid should be put in foster care... poor guy, poor kid."

He couldn't walk down his street without someone pulling him aside, offering help, a home for Kate. Milligan would insist he was fine, should be fine, could be fine. He could take care of Kate, he would be a good father. No harm could come to her if the best agent America had was her father. At least that's what he hoped.

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Six months went by, and before he knew it, Kate was talking. She would rattle off strings of words that wouldn't make any sense, than ask him, "Right, Daddy?" Milligan would nod, and say, "Right you are, Katie-Cat," and scoop her up into his big arms. He knew she would be a good agent too, some day. But he couldn't help but notice, that she beared almost no resemblance to her mother, save for her bubbly personality. She was just as curious, and energetic as Mary had been. She would have been proud of him, for raising her well.

But Milligan still couldn't let it go. Who was Mr. C? Was the bald man working for him? Why did they want _him? _He knew deep down that Mary was just an unfortunate obstacle. It was his fault that he couldn't protect her. _Poor guy, poor kid, _he thought. He loved her with all his heart. He wouldn't let some crook get away with this. Get away with murdering his wife. With leaving his only daughter motherless. It was then he decided to pursue them. To figure it out. To get revenge. For his Mary, and for Kate.

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Rick Epstein just wanted to finish his sandwich. Perched on the i-beam of the lot on 21st Street, he had opened the shiny package, and was just about to dig in, when a man with slicked back brown hair, and shoulders like a the bumper on his truck approached him.

"Er... ya know yer in a restricted area, right sir? This is a construction zone." He knocked his hard hat with a fist as if to make this clearer.

"The question is, however, is whether it's my construction zone, or yours." Rick sat up quickly, knocking over his lunch box.

"Y-Yer Mr. McCracken?" The man nodded, and looked him over with an apprehensive look. "And you are?'

Rick stuck out his hand, consciously wiping mustard on his overalls. "Rick. Rick Epstein. Sir."

McCracken smiled. "Welcome to my crew, Rick. I'm sure we'll get along fine."


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Note: I'll try to make this less confusing. Rick is supposed to be some comic relief, kind of like S.Q. in the series:)

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Milligan set out first thing on Saturday morning, leaving Kate with one of his coworkers, and made his way to the lot he had been held captive on. Stepping out of the car, he noticed the eviction notice pinned to the chain-link fence that bordered the property. The paper was yellowing, and the date read March 19th, 1996. _That was about a year ago_, Milligan thought. _About a month after Kate was born._ That would mean that either his captors had illegally holed up here, or had bought the place, and forgot to take the notice down. He opted for the illegal option. They definitely didn't seem like the men who would be careful and obedient when it came to the law. He pocketed the notice, and continued on his way.

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Rick had sat through the entire meeting, getting more and more intimidated by the second. His new bosses were, well... intimidating. The big one, McCracken, looked like a linebacker on steroids, who shops at Men's Warehouse, and the bald one, Crawlings, looked suspiciously like his Aunt Martha. He was terrified of his Aunt Martha.

"So Rick, you're in charge of the construction process. Remember, what's our number one rule?" Rick jumped up, and exclaimed rather loudly, "Never, EVER, EVER, EVER, EV-" Crawlings rolled his eyes.

"Can it Rick." Rick looked sheepishly towards the floor. "Don't touch the briefcases." McCracken smiled. "Atta boy." Rick grinned. "Oh, absolutely, Boss-man! Ya can count on me! When you want me to can it, I'll-" Rick turned at the sound of the door closing. "Hmm." He mused to himself. "Never did hear of someone who walks out when yer talkin' to em." He shrugged. "Ah, well. Gotta do whatever ya can to get work 'round here, I guess."

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McCracken raised a fist to the door, pausing to gather his thoughts, and straighten his tie. _Knock. Knock. Knock. _Almost immediately, the door swung open, revealing the large, lumpy nose of his employer.

"Ah, McCracken. Have you told the rules to our new employee? Good." McCracken squeezed through the door, and took a seat on the shiny metal chair. Mr. C cleared his throat, and addressed him.

"I have an application for a Recruiter job, two actually. One's from a former military man, McCraig, I believe." He chuckled. "Got kicked out because of his attitude. Consider him hired. And here's one from a man called Garrotte. Doesn't look pleasant, but I'm sure he'll work out fine. His methods make even me squeamish." He passed the two folders to McCracken. "Any status on our elusive agent?" McCracken grinned.

"We have located him, but with all his colleagues around, we can't get a proper hold on him." Mr. C nodded. "I have good news related to my machine. I think I have name for it." McCracken perked up, interested. This machine had been the talk of the Recruiters for some months now.

"I think I'll call it the Whisperer. Suits it, don't you think?"


	6. Chapter 6

Author's Note: To answer VeeAmAy, this does take place about 6 months before Milligan is taken. In fact, that will come into play...:) Oh, and by the way, "Can" is like "Aluminum can", not "Can I", when the Ten Men say it to Rick. It's a funnier way to say "SHUT THE FRAK UP!" Also, Milligan uses a real gun, but not after an event coming soon...

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Milligan walked through the lot. Every step he took made him more and more sure of the location. This was definitely it.

_I was running, _he thought. _Through the tunnel under the ground. I saw the light, no matter how cliche that sounds. I ran towards it, and found myself on Sycamore. _He positioned himself towards Sycamore. _Because of the position of the moon, I could have come from only two directions. _ He turned. _North, or east. _ He jogged to the north option. A rough patch of grass covered a sad little mound of dirt. He got down on hands and knees, and buried his hands in the sun-warmed dirt. He brushed aside a worm and a beetle, and felt the rusted metal of a handle. _ Yes._ He yanked on it, disrupting the dry earth. He coughed, and waved a hand in front of his face to clear the air. He was just about to put a foor in, when he heard the sound of a car pulling up.

"_HEY!" _Milligan whipped around. A sleek, black car pulled around to the gate. Three men exited. Milligan realized, with a start, that the bald man was with them. A batty looking man accompanied him, as well as an anxious looking twenty-something year old in a obnoxiously yellow hard hat, and a layer of dirt.

"You! Garrotte! Take Left! I'll take right!" Hard Hat raised a hand. "Crawlings, sir? What should _I _do?" Crawlings raised his eyebrow, and scoffed.

"Can it Rick." Rick nodded, head hung, looking like a dog with it's tail between it's legs.

Milligan dove behind the mound, pulling his gun from his belt. He scrambled with the safety, hearing the _click!_ He peeked around the corner, but pulled back when the dirt around him exploded with a _zing! _

As the shock-watches retracted, Milligan siezed the opportunity to take care of Garrotte. He spun, and slammed the butt of his gun into the surprised man rounding the corner, and clapped his hand over his mouth.

_One...Two...Three... _Garrotte's eyes rolled back into his head, and Milligan let the unconscious man fall to the ground. A memory flashed through his mind. _100...102...104...106...108. _

_"You're a lousy father,"_ Milligan shook his head. No, none of that. Not now.

He was interrupted by a crunch to his unguarded side. His hand flew to his pistol, and he fired.

A yelp of pain erupted from the other side of the mound. But it wasn't Crawlings. No, it was too young. Milligan rushed to the edge.

Lying on the floor was a yellow hard hat. And lying next to that, was Rick, red cascading out of his shoulder.

A/N Sorry for the grim cliff-hanger. Poor Rick...


	7. Chapter 7

Author's Note: To answer VeeAmAy, again:), I have seen the book, but have not purchased it yet.

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Rick moaned. He could vaguely see a tall, blond man in front of him, and could hear Crawlings behind him. He looked at his shoulder. The bullet had passed right through. He would be fine, but he needed to get something on it. He snapped back to attention when the blond man addressed him.

"Hey, are you alright?" Rick nodded, then noticed the gun in his hands. He scrambled backwards, right into Crawlings.

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Milligan saw Crawlings come up behind Rick, and raised his gun. But his hand was heavy with guilt. He hadn't done any irreparable damage to Rick, physically, but he did enough to make him rethink the use of his gun. Crawlings raised his arms, and a whine filled Milligan's ears.

"Well well well, who do we have here? Our runaway agent, eh? What a pleasant surprise. I've been looking for you for a while." Milligan scoffed. "Yeah, yeah, cut the crap Crawlings." Who are you working for?" He couldn't let himself get hit by the wires. He'd seen what they'd done to his colleagues, and he had no problem visualizing what they would do to him. He made a decision. He tossed his gun aside.

"What are doing Milligan, giving up? That's not like you. I expected a fight." Milligan raised his hands in the air, and eyed his enemy's sleeves. The whine was growing louder and more persistent. Milligan grinned.

"Hey! What are you so happy about? I'm the one in charge here!" Milligan winked, and slowly started backing up.

"Not for long." The watches gave a final shriek, and a sound like static cut through the tension. Crawlings flew backwards, and skidded most inelegantly along the dirt ground. Milligan helped Rick up.

"Come on! Let's get outta here!" They dashed to the truck, Milligan sneaking peeks back at the singed Recruiter behind him.

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"So, Rick. You work for Crawlings?" Rick shrugged, pressing the cloth to his shoulder. THey were sitting at the dining table of Wetherall Farm. Kate was in her room. Milligan didn't want her to see the blood.

"Well, tec'nicly I work fer Mr. McCracken, but Crawlings is the secon' in command." Milligan nodded.

"And where can I find this McCracken?" Rick looked up.

"Sir, thanks fer yer help an' all, but I work fer him, therefore I can't reveal that." Milligan laughed.

"Well then Rick, how would you like to work for the President?"

A/N sorry again for the disappointing length. I'll make up for it by updating tomorrow:)


	8. Chapter 8

Author's Note: Rick says hi. (a.k.a the authoress has absolutely no idea what to put here. Oh, and HI ALISON! Torres:( The Angels got Pujols! I kinda wished we would go for him... But that would never happen. Oh, what the heck. I'm cool with all our old washed up guys. It adds...character.)

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Rick stared at Mr. Wetherall, his jaw nearly hitting the floor.

"Ya-ya mean like, the President of the United States, or, like, the President of the Wisconsin Bi-Monthly Cheese Club? 'Cause if that was the case, I wouldn't be the first in the family." Mr. Wetherall laughed. Rick decided he liked the man. His laugh was like father's. Loud, deep, and joyful. And his daughter was darn cute.

"I mean the President of the US. You look like a good guy, and I don't want you mixed up in any funny business again. I could get you a job, not a dangerous one, but it would be better than tagging along with Ole' One Eyebrow, and McDonald's, or whatever the hell his name is." Rick stuck out his hand. Milligan's blue eyes seemed to brighten up the room, and they shook.

"Okey dokey Mr. Wetherall, ya got yerself a deal."

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Mr. C paced the room, his face getting redder with each forced, deliberate step.

"You-" He spluttered. "You _lost_ Epstein, _and_ Wetherall? And what do you mean lost _Epstein? _I thought he worked for you! And don't even start on the ruined shockwatches. Do you know how much those cost_? Do you?" _He began to say more, but his body went limp, and Garrotte stuck out a well-muscled arm to catch him. He looked at Crawlings, who shrugged.

"Just wait until he wakes up, I guess." His eyebrow was smoldering, and his suit was ripped. It took all of Garrotte's willpower not to giggle. Crawlings did look rather silly.

Mr. C began to awaken, and Garrotte gently slid him into a chair. He looked wildly around, and his eyes settled on the barbecued man in front of him. His hands shook with rage again, but he took a breath and calmed himself. Crawlings cleared his throat.

"Uh, sir? We have your new chair. It came this morning. If you could sign this sheet," He motioned to a paper on the desk,"We could bring it in for you." Mr. C nodded. "Very well." He motioned for a pen, and told Garrotte to bring in the chair. Crawlings peeked at the sheet. He wanted to see what the man's name really was.

The chair came in. Then Garrotte, jogging behind it. Crawlings shook his head, and looked again. The chair rolled over to his boss, and stopped with an awful squeal. Mr. C got up, and sat in the seat. He lifted his hand, and signed the paper. Two names were clear on the paper, in loopy, slanted cursive.

_Ledroptha Curtain._

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Rick sat in the plastic chair in the stiflingly white room, glancing at the candies on the desk of the receptionist. Milligan nudged him, and pointed to the door.

"It's you turn Ricky. Do your best kid." Rick swallowed, and got up. Milligan watched him cross the room, looking like he wanted to vomit. He smiled. He would do fine. Milligan had made sure that he would at least get the smallest job. Anything to keep him safe from the Recruiters. He chuckled at the loud voice of the young man that came drifting from behind the close door. It banged open, making the receptionist glance disapprovingly at Rick. He was grinning ear to ear.

"Guess what, Mr. W? I'm a postman now! And yer house is on my route! I'll get to see you every day!" He hugged the older man, and Milligan laughed.

"Good for you Ricky. Good for you."

A/N Yay! Finally a happy ending!


	9. Chapter 9

Author's Note: sorry about the slight mistake in last update's A/N. I got a little fritzy after a dinner at a fancy retaurant. Oh, and sorry for the late update:)

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Now all Milligan needed was luck. If luck obliged, he could sneak back to the lot, and slip through the trapdoor. He would need to go at night, that was for sure. And he would have to find an alternative to his gun. Maybe something with tranquilizers...

The moon was full when he returned a week later. He had left Kate with Rick, as they adored each other. At first he had doubts, but he seriously didn't think the Recruiters could just walk in and shoot Ricky. Someone would hear.

He jogged quietly around the perimeter, and spotted a sentry posted next to the trap door. He was a bespectacled Recruiter, and Milligan guessed he was new because of his slightly confused expression. He took this as a good sign, however. But if they were careless enough to leave a newbie at the entrance... Milligan shook that off. He had made sure this was not McCracken or Crawling's shift. Still, he would have to careful, and stealthy.

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Sharpe examined his briefcase, being careful as to not break it. Mr. Shades, or Blinds, or whatever it was had made sure to educate him on that point. He was interrupted, however, by a rustle to his right. He spun, and made the same mistake horror movie victims always do.

"Hello? Who's there?" He was answered with a _swit! _and he dropped to the floor.

Milligan strolled over to the Recruiter, and holstered his tranquilizer gun. He kneeled down next to him, and opened his suit pocket.

"Recruiter Number 7: ID tag Sharpe." Milligan peeked over the card and raised an eyebrow at the man lying on the ground before him.

"Number Seven, eh? Wonder how many of you there are." He shrugged, and pocketed the card. He had worn a suit in case he had to infiltrate anything. He now carefully pulled off the twin watches on Sharpe's wrists and slipped them on his own. And with that, he yanked open the trapdoor, and dropped inside.

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Rick obediently held Kate's hand as they strolled around the backyard. He nodded as she rambled on.

"Rick?" She asked. "Hmm, Katie?"

"Do you know what daddy's doing tonight?" Rick glanced at the child. He was often impressed by her vocabulary, but he was too swept away by the question to inquire any further into the subject.

"Well, Katie, I think he's off to rid tha world o' crime, and things like that. Don't he seem like the superhero type?"

Kate looked up at him, her blue eyes wide with wonder.

"Is he your hero, Rick?" Rick smiled. He kneeled down, and looked her straight in the eyes.

"Yup, Katie. He sure was."

A/N For some reason, i just think Milligan acts like a superhero. Maybe it's just me...


	10. Chapter 10

Author's Note: Sorry about the extremely late update. I was REALLY sick, just in time for Christmas! Anyways, I hope you all had a nice insert holiday here, and enjoy the story!

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Milligan ran down the long, dark hallway, his heart pounding despite the eery silence that had settled in the lot above. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and an odd feeling of doom had settled over him. The farther he traveled down the corridor, his joints began to feel stiffer, and his uneasy feeling increased rapidly. A crackle of a radio interrupted his musings, and he flattened himself against the cold steel wall.

"Hey, you, uh... Bludgins! Yeah! You! Have you gotten an update from Sharpe? His channels' gone dead." Milligan's eyes widened as he realized what would happen, and he pushed himself off the wall, and sprinted down the corridor, and rounded the corner just before a Recruiter pushed open a door on the right wall, and jogged down the corridor.

Milligan let out a sigh of relief, and edged towards the slightly ajar door. His boots made no noise as he spun to the other side of the door, and peered through the crack between the shades. Seeing no one, he dashed inside.

He appeared to be in an office, drab and dreary, with a run-of-the-mill file cabinet and a rickety desk. He glanced over his shoulder, and stole towards the files.

A minute later, he had spread out the measly selection of folders, and traced his finger over the names of what he assumed were victims of the recruiters cruel tactics.

_Crowe...Kentfield...Muldoon...Pedalian...__Rice...Terry...Vick...Wetherall._

He picked up his family's file, and shoved the rest hastily into the drawer. The only thing in the file was a packet with a yellowing newspaper clip pinned to the title page. He peered at the clip. It was the obituary with Mary's picture, a stiff, unrealistic portrait that the _Stonetown Times _had insisted on using. He skimmed through it, finding nothing but a cold feeling in the pit of his stomach. He flipped it over. he had no desire to revisit that right now.

The packet appeared to be on him, he realized with a start. He flipped through, chuckling at the images of him in disguise, but the laugh stopped short of escaping when he flipped to the last page. Mary's picture was situated in the corner, the same one from the memoriam, and a small paragraph of information was below it.

_Mary Wetherall, deceased. Obstacle in Wetherall case, exterminated. Memory file in Chamber 12. Husband and target: Agent Wetherall, known officer of the United States Government. Red-brown hair, blue-green eyes. 5"6, 134 lbs. Attended Cal Poly, with a degree in Engineering._

The next box, however, made Milligan's heart leap. Kate's face stared back at him, a picture taken almost a year ago. He read the information underneath, his horrible suspicions growing by the second.

_Kate Wetherall, born April 29th, 1996. Intelligence scan pending. High marks assumed. Father, at large, see above, mother, deceased, see above. Capture immediately. _

Milligan's hands trembled. This whole thing was about... children. Capturing them, testing them, to see if they had exceptional mental capacity. He feared what would would happen to them if they didn't. He closed the file, and shoved it in his jacket. He strode back over to the cabinet, picking up the first file he found.

_Paul and Cathy Crowe, deceased. Paul, schoolteacher, black hair, 6"1. Eye color unknown. Cathy, unemployed, black hair, brown eyes, 5"4. Both attended University of Washington. Daughter, Martina, obtained, cleansed. High intelligence, ideal._

Milligan stuffed the file in his jacket, and scooped the rest into his arms. He would have to examine them later. Right now, he had to get back to Kate and Rick.

As he left the office, two pictures fell out of the files. He bent to pick them up. One was of an average looking toddler, sitting in a high chair. He turned it over, and read the name. _Reynard Muldoon, birthdate unknown. Parents, deceased, unknown. High risk, ill-advised. Capture unlikely. _He let out a breath of relief.

The other picture was of a boy with red hair, and unusually large feet. Milligan flipped it over, fearing the worst.

_S.Q Pedalian, born September 2nd, 1990. Cleansing complete, malfunction when tested. Terminate memory immediately._

Milligan felt a lump form in the back of his throat. He had to do something, anything, about these children. He had to save them from Mr. C and his Recruiters.

"Hey, McCraig, is that you?" came a voice from around the corner. Milligan jumped, and stumbled towards the exit, his heart pounding like a jackhammer. He didn't get far.

"Hello, Agent. Long time, no see, eh?" said Crawlings, emerging from the trapdoor. "But where are my manners? Bludgins!" he called to the man around the corner. "Let's show Mr. Hero here how real men give handshakes."

Milligan was caught, and honest man in a den of thieves. He raised his tranquilizer gun, and began to fight.

A/N Heh heh...Firefly reference:)


	11. Chapter 11

Author's Note: ... I honestly have no response to this:) Oh, and sorry 'bout all the references. I promise this is the last (intentional) one. Also, I got the new companion book, whose title is too long to recreate, for Christmas, so I am happy:)

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"Wake up, Mr. Wetherall. Wake up." Milligan raised his tired eyes, and found himself peering into the rather lumpy face of Ledroptha Curtain. He awoke with a start, scrambling up off the dusty floor. Curtain brushed off his green plaid suit, and chuckled, an unsettling sound that bounced off the walls of the office.

"Mr. Wetherall, your situation is inescapable, so I recommend that you calm down, so we can get to business." Milligan spun around, eyeing the three Recruiters that now faced him. "Mr. Wetherall, may I remind you that I am over _here, _therefore you should be facing _this way?" Milligan scoffed._

_"_Keep your ramblings to yourself, Curtain. Most people have surprisingly low tolerance for blabber." Milligan waited for a response, or even punishment, but it never came. He turned around slowly, holding his breath.

"Don't try anything stupid, Lawman."Said one of the Recruiters. Milligan stared at the man in the wheelchair, who was now fast asleep, snoring like an angel. No sooner had Milligan begun to take a step towards the door, however, did Curtain spring up, looking wildly about. His eyes settled on Milligan, and he smiled.

"Take him to the chamber." The Recruiters looked at each other, faces blank. Curtain closed his eyes, and breathed in deeply.

"_The Whisperer chamber, you idiots! Where else would I ask you to take him?" _He finished his screaming session, and the Recruiters scrambled over to Milligan, who had no choice to oblige as they dragged him dow the dark hallway, and through a door marked simply; Memories.

The door swunf open, and Milligan gasped. There, hanging limply from the ceiling, was a chair, suspended by tubes running from every direction imaginable, each pulsing with a different color, vibrating and humming. The chair itself was a gray color, with a helmet on the top, and coiled wires running from the back. Mr Curtain chuckled.

"Well boys, lets show Agent Wetherall here what my machine can do."


	12. Chapter 12

Author's Note: Just spent my New Year's Eve playing Bioshock with my sis and bro. What a good way to sign off 2011; by screaming your heads off when a Big Daddy attacks you...anyways, Happy New Year, and enjoy the chapter! P.S check out my sister, chaoswalking's, Oblivion fanfic. It rocks. Seriously. She's the one who's the award winning writer, not me:)

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Milligan tried to resist the brute strength of the Recruiters, but his body didn't seem to respond. He could only stare at the machine, pulsing and humming, as he was being dragged forward. He was shoved rather roughly into the chair, and as soon as his wrists hit metal, he felt cuffs click into place, preventing him from moving. The helmet lowered onto his head, and he strained against his bonds, desperately trying to escape.

"Give it up, Wetherall. I have designed this for the past decade of my life, and I am entirely sure it is indestructible. "

Milligan opened his eyes, looking for his enemy. Curtain was sitting about ten feet from Milligan, a matching helmet perched on his head, and a gleeful grin on his face. He raised a finger, and pressed a button on his new wheelchair.

"Sweet dreams, Agent." He laughed, and Milligan was suddenly overwhelmed by a suffocating silence, blocking out the evil man in front of him. He twisted his head, attempting to escape from the roar of nothingness, images floating through his mind. Kate, this morning, watching him leave, with a concerned expression on her round face.

"You're coming back, right, Daddy? So we can go to the mill again?" He had knelt down, stroking her cheek.

"Of course, I am, Katie-cat. Then we can all go to the mill."

Now he saw Rick, hugging him, after recieving his mailman job.

And Mary. She was so beautiful. He wasn't in the chair anymore. He was in a field, at sunset, and the only other person in the world was his wife. He stepped forward.

"Wait, no!" She cried. He stopped in his tracks, his heart jumping like a rabbit in his ribcage.

"Don't leave me, Milligan. Don't leave me like you left Kate." Milligan shook his head.

"No, I'll never leave you. I promise." But Mary just shook her head. SHe started to back up, tears in her eyes.

"WAIT, MARY! NO!" He tried to step forward, but his feet wouldn't move. He cried out, screaming, while his wife disappeared.

"Daddy?" said a voice behind him. Milligan spun, dropping to his knees. Kate stood in front of him.

"Don't leave me Daddy." Milligan sobbed, holding out his hand.

"I won't, Katie-cat. I promised, remember?"

But Kate was fading, and Milligan felt himself return to reality. The last thing he heard before he went under was the voice of Ledroptha Curtain.

"I killed your wife, Wetherall. And I enjoyed every moment of it." He laughed, a horrible screechy sound.

"Goodbye, Agent."

And Milligan Wetherall fell into the abyss, never to return.


	13. Chapter 13

Author's Note: This'll be the last chapter...thanks for the reviews and readership!

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Rick Epstein walked slowly home that night. They had told him that Mr. Wetherall was M.I.A, presumed dead. That word seemed to follow him, whispering in his ear.

_Dead. He's dead. _Rick wouldn't believe it. He would find him one day.

And Kate. Little Kate, all alone. He had never asked Mr. W about his wife. But despite all his pleadings, an orphanage in Chicago had come to pick her up. He still remembered the look in her eyes as she held his hand.

_"Where's daddy, Rick?" He had sighed, and answered with a simple, "Don' know, Katie. But he's okay. Trust me, he's okay." He held her hand the entire time the Orphanage Director rambled on about reputation and and other non-sequiturs. It was insensitive, he had thought, to talk about such things when a child's father had just been ripped from her at such an early age._

_"Please don't leave, Rick."_

_"I won't, Katie. I'm gonna move to 'Cago, I promise. I'll visit, an' I'll bring you all your things." She had wrapped her tiny arms around him, not showing any signs of ever letting go. But, the time came when the Director escorted them outside, and he gently pried Kate off, and took her face in his rough hands._

_"Be strong fer me, Katie. Jus' like yer Dad."_

_"Okay, Rick. I promise." He had smiled, suddenly filling with pride at her extensive vocabulary._

_"Love ya, kid." And they had driven off, the last remaining reminder of a great man._

**THIRTEEN YEARS LATER**

Rick had never moved to Chicago. He often regretted that lie, but he doubted Kate would remember him, after all those years. Yet somehow, he couldn't shake the feeling that they would meet again someday.

He had moved to California, however. He couldn't stay on the East Coast, no it just reminded him of Mr. Wetherall, and Kate.

Kate. She would be fifteen and a half now. He hoped she was doing well. Poor kid, she probably doesn't even remember Mr. Wetherall.

But Rick does. He'll always be his savior, his mentor.

His superhero.


End file.
